


Wardened

by Lady_Anonymia



Category: TBoA
Genre: Churches & Cathedrals, God I love Hunter, Malignants, Mentor/Protégé, Pregnant Character, Rumors, She's a little hormonal, Sisters, They love each other but they want different things, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 06:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12426816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Anonymia/pseuds/Lady_Anonymia
Summary: It was a rainy day in April when she’d discovered the Warden.-Annette has a job that she needs to do, and debts that she needs to pay, never mind her sister's reservations. The story of Annette Shaw.





	Wardened

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to start this thing off with a thanks to my friendos: Hyannah, for making a complex universe with amazing art and being nice enough to accept me into it; and Avi, who is always hilarious and who I love despite her strange obsession with an evil blue ghost dog.

Annette tiptoed down the stairs, wary of the spots where the floorboards creaked. This late at night was the only time she could go out without being hounded by her older sister Gladys about where she was going, and who was she going with, and she wasn’t going near the Charnel Woods, was she? It was getting ridiculous! Annette was a 16-year old woman; she should be able to go where she wanted, when she wanted. Besides that, working late nights like this was exhausting. Annette liked to think that she had a lot of energy to spend, but getting up in the middle of the night for the past few months to tend to the Ashwick Cemetery was beginning to take its toll on her in more ways than one.

Annette was seven when her parents were taken by the fever, and she and Gladys were entrusted to the care of their grandmother. Her grandmother was a free soul herself, and encouraged the girls to go out of the house and explore the town. Gladys always wanted to stay inside and read or knit, but Annette wandered the streets of Ashwick frequently, trying to coax the baker into giving her a pastry or playing tag with the other children.

It was a rainy day in April when she’d discovered the Warden.

The drops had fallen hard and Annette had wandered too far from home to walk back without getting soaked. The grand cathedral had been her only shelter.

She remembered how heavy the tall wooden doors had been. She remembered how small she’d felt after she’d wiggled her way inside, the cathedral roof towering above her. She remembered how her steps had echoed in the rafters. But most of all, she remembered the man. The Warden.

He was tall and dark-skinned, much like her father, with a presence that could command a room and a fire in his eyes. When the Warden caught sight of Annette, cold and damp and guilty, the fire turned warm, and kind. He’d asked if she wanted some tea, and she agreed.

As the years passed, Annette had continued to visit the cathedral every so often, as thanks to the man who had helped her when she was young. The Warden—Hunter, she later learned, was his first name—often talked about Annette’s mother, because he didn’t seem to like talking about himself. They had been close, Annette discovered, so close that Hunter was prepared to raise her and her sister if they had no surviving relations.

But as Annette became closer to her new mentor, she grew farther away from her sister.

When Gladys married, she’d insisted that Annette come to live with her and her husband. Amma had been far too lenient all these years, she’d declared, and it was time for Annette to be brought up properly; she couldn’t be running around like a child for the rest of her life. But that was exactly what Annette wanted—to explore the woods, to work the soil—and she was just as determined to do so as Gladys was to stop her.

Three months ago, on one of her regular trips to Ashwick Cathedral, Hunter had propositioned her.

“I need a gravedigger,” he’d said bluntly, and Annette had been much less surprised by the statement than she thought she’d be.

“Alright,” she’d responded, sipping her hot tea carefully.

“You’re not interested?” he’d asked, and Annette could tell by the look in his eyes that he’d been taken off guard by her indifference.

She’d looked at him coyly. “I said ‘alright,’ didn’t I?” At the subtle bewilderment on his face, she had giggled. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you, sir? You’re not the only one who can be mysterious, you know.”

Hunter chuckled, and Annette grinned. “It might take me a bit to get the idea through Gladys’ head, but I’ll help you out. I’ve always wanted to see what was in those woods, anyways.”

Of course, Gladys had rejected the idea before Annette had even finished talking.

“I won’t let you work for the Warden!” she’d proclaimed, her simple dress wrinkled over her growing belly. Gladys was three months with child, and it had made her three times as insufferable in Annette’s mind.

“Why not? Hunter helped raise us—he’s been like a father to me!—why shouldn’t I pay back his kindness?”

“He helped raise _you_ ,” Gladys spat, “and if this is how you turned out, he shouldn't have bothered in the first place. He might as well have raised a stray _dog_ , for all he did."

Annette stormed off, hurt and confused as to what Gladys’ vendetta against Hunter was in the first place. The two eventually apologized to each other, but Annette’s resolve was set, and no one was going to stop her.

Annette was slipping her boots on as noiselessly as she could when she heard the sound of a match striking, and a candle began to glow in the corner of the room. Annette sighed, continuing to lace up her shoes.

“I suppose you’re going to lecture me again, Gladys?” she said, determinedly not looking in her sister’s direction. “I’m entirely too old for you to keep babying me like this.”

There was no response. Annette could see Gladys’ silhouette out of the corners of her eyes, how the light shone over her belly and the child inside. Annette stood and stretched, still not looking in her direction. She had her hand on the doorknob when Gladys finally spoke.

“...when Ezekiel was first born, there was talk, you know,” she said quietly. Annette froze. _No one_ talked about Ezekiel anymore: her 7-month old brother, killed in his crib, wolfish teeth and claw wounds marring his body. The vision of his mangled form plagued Annette’s nightmares, even now.

“The townsfolk gossiped amongst themselves, spreading the lies that Ezekiel was Hunter’s child, and not Father’s. You were too young to care about things like town politics, but I...” Gladys took a deep breath, expression unreadable. “No one would believe Mother, and Hunter never said anything publicly to deny the rumors. Mother and Father were taken by fever before they could...officially separate, and people...”

“What?” Annette pressed, after the silence stretched with no answer. “What did they do?”

“People said that Ezekiel deserved it,” Annette said bitterly, “because his father was Malignant.”

“What!?” Annette managed to set aside her shock to scoff derisively. “I—Gladys, you and I both know that’s ridiculous. Hunter is a Warden, he couldn’t be Malignant! I-I don’t even think Malignants can _enter_ holy places.”

“Rumors always grow from truth, Annie.” Annette flinched at the old nickname: Gladys hadn’t used it in years. “Something is off about Hunter: I knew it eight years ago and I know it now.”

“But you don’t know _him_ , Gladys,” Annette retaliated. “He’s not _off_ , he’s quiet! Just because people want to keep to themselves doesn’t mean they’re Malignant, you of all people should know that—!”

“Annie, don’t,” Gladys said, tiredly, and Annette stopped, suddenly feeling very tired herself.

”Gladys, I’m not a complete idiot. Do you think after all these years I’d still be apprenticing with Hunter if he’d given me any indication that he was going to hurt me?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Gladys replied, not meeting Annette’s eyes, “if you were trying to get back at me.”

Annette stepped to her sister and kneeled next to her chair, holding out her hand. Gladys took it and squeezed. Now that she was closer, Annette could see the tears forming at the corners of her sister’s eyes. “You’re too young to know what you’re doing, Annie,” Gladys said hoarsely. “Every choice, every step...there are consequences, and some are very steep indeed. I won’t be able to go on if something happens to you, I just won’t.”

“Even if I was planning on getting myself killed tonight,” Annette laughed faintly, placing her other hand on Gladys’ belly, “you have more to think about than me now.”

Gladys choked out a sob and squeezed Annette’s hand harder. Annette let her, squeezing back just as hard until Gladys’ heaving breaths evened out.

“Be safe,” Gladys whispered, her voice still carrying a tone of worry. “For God’s sake, Annie, _please_ be safe.”

“God has kept the both of us safe all these years, and I have faith that he will keep us safe for many more,” Annette assured her. She wrapped her arms around her sister, feeling the wet tears on her cheek, and kissed her.

“Don’t worry about me, Gladys,” Annette called, as she walked back to the door and opened it. “I’ll be back before you miss me.” The cool night wind rushed into the house as Annette closed the door behind her, and the candle’s flame shivered and died.

“God grant it,” Gladys whispered to herself in the darkness, fresh tears staining her face. “God grant it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated, and (as always) I hope you enjoyed the story!


End file.
